Orbitofrontal Cortex 01

Author's note: I'd like to thank another Literotica writer, OrpheusRadius, for providing the story idea. I would recommend all of OrpheusRadius's work, but in particular, check out

Christy Becomes a Bad Girl

. That story inspired mine. Mine has a different style, a different plot, and different characters, but I must credit OrpheusRadius for its concept, "head injury that turns a good girl into a reluctant mega slut."

...

Chapter 1

She'd recently started taking birth control pills.

Her parents didn't care. Their protective angst had eroded while raising her three older siblings. And they were content, believing she'd grown to become strong-willed and responsible. No need to meddle.

Maybe they were neglecting their youngest child.

Certainly, they'd misjudged Richard. But he'd proven he loved her. He'd behaved like a fine young man. They could not have known what he would do to her, their sweet, conscientious daughter.

...

Richard was a twenty-one-year-old student, a junior at Carnegie Melon. Five months ago, when his girlfriend, Carrie Jenner, had turned eighteen, he'd begun hounding her to fuck. And she'd stood her ground like a good girl. Or at least, almost. In exchange for restraining his most carnal needs she'd shared oral sex with him. Electrifying blowjobs. They had tapped the wells of his ecstasy.

And they had doomed her. The entrancing warmth of her sexy mouth had lured the beast and ultimately provoked his crushing assault. Finally, she'd let him defile her virgin hole.

Unfortunately, Richard's solace came to a quick end. The very next day, he'd watched as Carrie celebrated, pirouetting around the room, an acceptance letter from Princeton University clutched in her hand.

Ten years of practicing ballet had shaped her tight round ass and her slim graceful legs. So Richard had already envisioned a worrisome future. During her college years, suitors would swarm to her beauty like insects to their queen. But Princeton? He hadn't seen that coming. The entire country lay between Mountain View and Princeton. She'd be studying at a school two thousand miles beyond his guard.

...

While waiting at a stoplight, Richard turned to admire the profile of Carrie's face silhouetted against the evening lights. With his eyes, he traced an imaginary bridge, overlaying the curved peaks from her forehead to her chin. Crossing over her pillowed mouth his gaze lingered. The seducing crevice framed by her glossed, rose lips touched his awe. And his torment.

For the last six weeks, he'd pleaded for her to reconsider, but she'd held firmly to her plans. Nothing could justify turning down the highly coveted opportunity in Princeton.

She'd insisted she would remain faithful. However, he'd foreseen it. His jealousy would destroy him. She would delay, responding to one of his texts, and he would agonize, wondering who was wooing her. While exploring a world of dance clubs and fraternity parties crowded with virile, Ivy League stock she would succumb to a better man.

The traffic signal turned green. Richard veered onto the freeway entrance ramp. A recurring thought crept into his head.

If she leaves I'll lose her.

Onset of nausea stirred near his diaphragm, and for a moment Richard wondered if his dinner would stay down. He knew a long-distance relationship couldn't work. He just wasn't sure if Carrie knew it too, or if she was simply naïve.

He looked at her and broke the silence. "Carrie..."

She turned her head to show him a half smile.

As the car passed over a dip in the pavement, Richard felt the centripetal force pull him toward the ground. A single, brief pulse. In his peripheral vision he saw Carrie's boobs stretch an inch downward, spring back up, and jiggle. So his eyes involuntarily examined her blouse where her nipples drilled into the flimsy bra beneath. A small fire lit in his groin. It spread through his gut, burned away the nausea, and fueled his inspiration.

He locked his view onto the road's painted lines. "What if we were..." he started. "Have you ever thought about marriage?" Several seconds passed. Richard could feel her looking at him.

"Are you serious?" she asked. "Did you buy a ring?"

He wiped the sweat from his palm onto his pant leg. A ring... of course he hadn't bought a ring. He'd only been testing to find out how she felt, but now he was caught in the middle of an awkward proposal.

"Well...yes," he stammered.

I'd be serious if you were.

"I mean, no, I haven't bought a ring. I just want to know if you've thought about it."

"Richard," she sighed. "I'm only eighteen. I'm about ready to start college. You know I can't get married now." She tapped her fingers on the door's armrest. "Ever since I got accepted to Princeton, you've been different. It feels like you need to know what I'm doing every minute. We've seen each other almost every day, and--"

"What?"

She turned and grimaced at him.

His thoughts froze. "We...we..." He blinked a few times while he recovered. "We only have a few more months together before you leave." He tried to read her face.

Where is she going with this?

She exhaled slowly. "I haven't had any time for my friends. I'm leaving

them

too." She curled the corners of her mouth into a sad smile, and then added, "I think being apart for a while could make our relationship stronger."

He swallowed hard. There it was. He knew what she really meant. Her answer was, 'No'. She wasn't necessarily breaking up with him, but their relationship would be done after she left. She knew it, and she was ok with it. She was preparing to move on.

Where had he gone wrong? He hadn't realized he'd been suffocating her. "Carrie, can we..." He choked out the words. "If you could just--"

"Get over!" she screamed. "Rich-- stop, STOP!"

He turned his head. An old yellow pickup -- its hazard lights were flashing. The car ahead swerved to avoid rear-ending it.

He held his breath. His foot stomped on the brake pedal. His car slid, tires screeching. With a slam, its motion suddenly halted. Metal crunched and glass shattered.

Six days later...

Richard clicked the remote to cycle through the television channels.

While sitting propped up in her bed, Carrie spun around to fluff her pillow and then panted as if winded. Richard helplessly watched as her powder blue eyes lost focus and rolled back in their sockets.

Richard stood. "Are you ok?"

She sluggishly blinked at him. "Yeah, I was a little dizzy."

He ran his hand through his hair. He wished he could undo what he'd done to her. The accident replayed in his mind. Their disagreement. Her scream. The crash.

To avoid her dazed eyes, he bent his head to look at the floor. The doctor had released him only hours after having been admitted. However, Carrie had suffered a severe concussion. Her head injury had caused both anteriorgrade and retrograde amnesia.

"The anteriorgrade amnesia," the doctor had said. "It has erased from her memory everything that happened during the six hours leading up to the accident. It's not much to worry about, considering."

Richard wasn't worried about it. In fact, he was relieved. She had no memory of their last date, no memory that she'd rejected his botched marriage proposal.

"The retrograde amnesia is a bigger problem. She has lost her ability to keep new memories beyond two hours. Going forward, she will forget every experience only a short duration after living it. The good news is her disorder is only temporary. I expect Carrie to fully recover. The bad news is her recovery could take months, maybe a year."

Mr. Jenner had already arranged with Princeton University to delay her start until after the coming semester. No sense going to school when she couldn't remember anything she learned. Richard had privately celebrated. His hope had been renewed. He would have four more months together with Carrie.

A knock came from the door. A staff technician about twenty-five years old entered the room. Richard guessed the man to be Italian. His black hair looked tangled, though styled. He showed Carrie a big smile below his arched Roman nose, and his white teeth contrasted his bronzed skin.

"Good hoffter-noon-eh, Carrie." he said. Apparently, he knew her from prior shifts.

At first she turned her head to the side and looked at him through the corners of her eyes. Of course she didn't recognize the man. Nonetheless, her face gradually brightened and she sweetly returned his smile.

"Rhonda, your nurse-eh, she say it's time-eh for shower. She go 'elp Julie wit-eh intravenous. She hosk-eh me..." he paused and looked over at Richard. "...or 'e could-eh..." He paused again. "You need assistance-eh."

Carrie swung her legs off the bed toward the tech, turning her back to Richard. Her gown opened all the way down showing the alluring crack between her little butt cheeks. He craved to look at her full nude body.

Yes, I'll help her.

"Oh. No, that's ok. I'm ready," she said. The staff technician took her arm, helped her from the bed, and walked her slowly toward the bathroom.

Richard suddenly felt out of place. Were they expecting him to leave? Maybe not, but the compulsion to hide came over him. Her gown hardly veiled her ass, yet he was the one who felt naked. He stood awkwardly waiting for them to clear from his path. Then after they disappeared into the bathroom he quietly let himself out.

Richard meandered toward the waiting area and took the elevator down to the cafeteria. Thirty minutes later, he returned to her room to find Carrie's parents and her nurse waiting.

Mrs. Jenner wrinkled her forehead. "Where's Carrie?" she asked.

Richard scanned the room's occupants as if trying to locate the girl among them. "I don't know. The tech was here," he said. "I thought she was taking a shower."

The nurse stood thinking for another minute, and then pursed her lips. "I'd better call my supervisor." She exhaled a frustrated puff, picked up the line, and waited for an answer. "Helen, this is Rhonda. Carrie Jenner -- the concussion patient with amnesia -- she's gone missing again."

'Again' -- what's that supposed to mean?

"Could you please alert the floor staff?" she continued. "I'm going to go look for her." With a quick assuring nod to Carrie's parents, she left.

Mr. Jenner gave his wife a long, concerned stare. "Let's go look," he said. "Come on." Mrs. Jenner and Richard followed him out of the room.

Mr. and Mrs. Jenner turned down the hallway to the right, while Richard turned left. After walking only about twenty paces, he heard someone just ahead. He recognized Carrie's giggling. He'd already found her, and from the sound of it she was not in any trouble.

He approached a door on the right with a sign above it reading, "Lecture Hall", and peeked through its small window. Her laugh came from inside, but he could see only darkness.

Wait a second.

He shuffled backwards. She was laughing, but why in a dark, empty auditorium? Richard tweaked his lips between his thumb and finger, shaking his head, trying to block out the answer he felt in his gut.

Carrie's parents appeared, walking his direction from the end of the hall. He considered heading back to meet them, pretending he'd never heard anything, but his focus immediately returned to the door. From the other side, he heard a hushed voice. "Ooooooh-oddio," a man groaned. "Cavolo-ahhhhhh."

Richard's abdomen contracted rigid like ice. Hesitating, he shook his hands as if to dry them. He couldn't think straight, so disregarding logic he just opened the door and stepped into the room.

The hallway light beamed through the doorway like a spotlight. There, with his pants down and his hands braced behind his butt, the staff technician was leaning against the back of a chair. He was in a state of oblivion, head tilted back and eyes closed.

Richard had missed part of the orgasm, but he saw enough. The man's dripping pee hole continued spurting. It shot two thick streams of cum in the direction of Carrie's mouth, paused for a second, and then ejected two final, weaker squirts.

Sitting on a seat in front of him, her back to Richard, Carrie was holding the man's uncircumcised cock. While peeling back its foreskin with one hand, she was slowly massaging its shiny, bulging head with the other. Continuous churning squishes broke through the dull quiet of the vacant auditorium. It taunted Richard, the solo rhythm of her kneading little fist, wet from saliva and semen.

When Carrie's parents stepped into the room, the technician registered his audience. Avoiding eye contact, he fumbled with his pants to put his cock away, and rushed out of the room.

Carrie turned around to watch him leave, her mouth open and full of cum. Several liquid white streaks clung to her lips and her chin. A wayward strip of semen dangled in her straight, light brown hair. So much, evidently Richard had witnessed only the tail end of the man's ejaculation.

Giggling, she scraped her finger over her top lip to push cum into her mouth and then swallowed the load in a single, deliberate gulp. Her mouth formed a big, devious smile as her excited, wide eyes connected with Richard's. Then she looked pensively to the side.

"Salty. A little bit gritty. It always makes my tongue feel kind o' tingly and numb," she observed. "It tastes a little different than yours," she added turning back to Richard. "It was a lot more than I'm used to."

Feel numb... His entire body felt numb. He couldn't remember how to breathe. Carrie's dad said something, but Richard's brain failed to distinguish the words. How could she be so nonchalant about it? For God's sake, her parents were standing right there.

Her dad reached over the row of chairs to grab her arm. He ushered her from her seat, to the aisle, and toward the door. As she approached, she held out her arms to Richard.

He jerked his head back.

What the hell? You've got to be kidding me. You want to hug?

Inches away from closing for an embrace, her dad's grip stopped her short, and her hair swung like a pendulum.

A scent began to suffocate Richard. Cum. Reeking like chlorine mixed with pancake batter, the cloud of another man's lust was floating around her head. Rage dimmed his vision for a moment, but he slowly regained focus and stared at her wide-eyed. He put a hand on her shoulder and shoved.

Her upper body reeled. "Ow! Hey!" she yelled.

He turned, exited the auditorium, and stomped down the hall.

A week later...

Mr. Jenner sipped on his coffee. He looked at Richard's half-eaten pastry. "Can I get you something else?" he asked. "You know it's my treat. I'm just so glad you could meet us here." He shot a glance over at Carrie, who sat quietly nursing her iced mocha.

Richard had spent the last week holed up in his apartment. It had begun with excessive drinking, sleeping, and weeping, but for the last couple days his thoughts had turned to revenge. They had begun to worry him. He feared losing control of his anger. So he'd finally decided she would be safer if he stayed away.

However, today Mr. Jenner had texted to invite him for coffee. He'd said it was important.

Richard sat back in his chair to abandon his pastry. "No thanks," he answered. "I'm really not hungry." He glared at Carrie.

"I know how you must feel," said Mr. Jenner. "That's why I thought someone owed you an explanation." He and his daughter looked at each other. "And she can't..." He turned back to Richard. "I mean, I have to tell you. After that incident at the hospital --"

Richard's face twitched.

Mr. Jenner set his coffee on the table and held his hands up. "Just hear me out," he continued. "After that incident, we knew something else wasn't right. We took her to see a specialist. They did some tests."

Richard leaned forward.

"It's a little hard to explain. You see, the specialist said she suffered trauma to her medial orbitofrontal cortex. They studied other cases for the consequences, which they confirmed in her." He paused.

"What consequences?" Richard asked.

"Well, the oversimplified version is, a person uses that part of the brain to determine what is right or wrong based on feedback to their actions."

"What does that mean?"

Mr. Jenner briefly looked at Carrie and back again. "When it's injured, the victim loses their ability to empathize. And worse, judicious self-control is lost. It typically leads to any of several disinhibited behaviors, like compulsive gambling or drug use..." He hesitated for a moment, and then raised his eyebrows. "Or it could lead to hyper-sexuality."

Richard leaned back in his chair again.

"Look, Richard. She needs help. She's not well, and the problem is we can't right now. I mean, her mother is leaving the country in two days. Her company is opening a new branch in Hong Kong.

"I'll be here, off and on, but my project has blown way out of proportion. For the next three months, I have to spend half my time in Irvine, and we'll be putting in ridiculous hours." He sighed.

Richard waited.

"For the last year, Carrie has been closer to you than anyone else. You've been great. They said she'll recover. But right now, Richard, she needs help."

Richard looked at her through the corners of his eyes.

That bitch doesn't want my help.

He looked back at Mr. Jenner. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I know you're a good man, Richard. I was hoping you could forgive her for what happened at the hospital. We need for someone to watch her closely, very closely for the next few months while she recovers," he said. "Can you do that?"

Richard narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't quite adding up.

He wants to shut in his hypersexual daughter with me? What is he thinking?

Mr. Jenner could sense his confusion. He bent his head to look long at Richard through his eyebrows. "We know Carrie has been taking birth control pills," he said.

Richard's blood flow increased, warming his ears and then the heat spread to his cheeks.

"She's not herself now," he continued. "And we trust that you will treat Carrie with respect. We trust you will keep her best interests at heart."

Richard looked at her and struggled to keep his expression from showing his contempt.

"In her state," Mr. Jenner said. "If we don't take caution and protect her, she could destroy her future."

Richard closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment.

This is bullshit.

Her dad didn't know she'd rejected him. Her dad didn't know he was the absolute worst choice in the world to babysit Carrie. Then he opened his eyes again, and offered a faint nod. "Yeah, I'll do it. I'll watch her."

Chapter 2

"I boxed up some of my clothes and put them in the closet," said Richard. He pointed to the bottom drawer of his dresser. "You can use that one." Carrie began transferring clothes from her bag to the drawer.

He couldn't believe her parents were letting their eighteen-year-old daughter begin spending nights with him. He'd underestimated how little they would protect her. They didn't have time for parenting anymore because they had lofty career goals to achieve. The time had come for their fourth and last child to leave the house.

Whatever the reason, Carrie would be staying with him for most of the next few months. So strange, considering Richard had just decided to avoid her completely, to try and forget about her. Mr. Jenner had forced her on him.

Richard summoned images from his memory and watched her again, jacking off the man in the hospital auditorium. He shook his head. He was supposed to forgive her. Mr. Jenner had said her injury could cause hyper-sexuality.

"Yeah, I guess so," he muttered under his breath.